I was in my mother's house. It was a friday, and we were expecting some snow over the weekend. And my father told me and my brother to put our bicycles in the garage away before shabbos.

Then he and I were standing in the hallway upstairs next to an apple macintosh computer which stood on a table and he asked me to undertake the responsibility of keeping that immediate area clean. He asked me what materials I'd need, and I, running my finger through the dust on the table, asked for a feather duster. He said they were too expensive. I asked, don't we have three in the house already? He told me I should ask my mother about them- she had lost them all. And I thought, how will I clean this area with a rag? I'd have to make it wet and that could interfere with the computer.

I had a dog. It was huge and white and heartbreakingly cuddly. My little brother and sister were in my sister's room, taking off their cold, snow covered coats and scarves and boots and gloves. My little brother was grimacing, seemingly in real pain. Then they got into my sister's bed to go to sleep, and I had the dog lie next to my sister to keep her warm.

I took the dog to the petshop, which was also the veterinarian's office. Then I left him there, but with the understanding that my sister would take care of him. I went out and walked fown the block, but then I returned. The dog was on an examination table and the veterinarians were examining him, there were two down by his stomach and they might have been doing surgery.